Anyone live in their head? A world peopled by events that never happened and those you never met?
I know I do. I know I am a myth in my mind where greatness is seen and my acts are celebrated.
This is not my wandering ego of 30 years ago, when one day I was more than I could imagine and the next I was a sloth and the despicable person I knew myself to be.
This is different because I know I do make a difference and I know I am not the shaker and mover that time will commemorate.
I am no Julia Childs. I am no Maya Angelou.
I am me, sometimes happier with that than others.
Yet I so want to matter and though I know I do, I also know I don’t.
I know if I touch one heart, open one door, if I can help one person feel less alone and more loved and needed then all I do has value, within that instant.
Yet I want more. I want a book of poems that isn’t just published but read and sold.
I want to have someone special to pass on to what I know, have and have learned.
My writing gives me this. I write what I understand. Others read it. People reach out and I reach back.
I have friends, some younger, some older, that I am able to pay forward all that was given me without my asking, without a receipt of a debt to be owed.
Yet in my crazy mind I want a way to chisel my spirit into the rock of time so even when I am not who I knew myself to be, I will be remembered, I will be known.
And I write this because don’t we all want this? Is it not part of what drives men and women to have children? Don’t we all want a legacy?
And I can bring tears thinking of my parents passing and I know so well they will live in me and I understand death does not really end as much as it punctuates meaning for life because it does not last forever, though the spirit never dies.
I know I am not alone. I know too well we all have struggles and challenges, lessons and hurts, joys and celebrations, times of angst and times of fulfillment.
After all, that’s life, where we land on spaceship earth and those we’ve probably known for lifetimes sit down on a seat near us and we get to meet them all over again, to give again, take again, love again, laugh again, cry again and die again.
When my Granny died I imagined her meeting me when my time came. How lucky I was to have a woman who can hold my childhood with her memory, whose love was so grand that it’s held me for a lifetime. And she made a difference in a way no one else has before or since.
I think we all pray to whatever we can for meaning to flood every moment. It’s life. It’s not simple or easy but it can be a hell of a ride in the universe’s orbit.
My revelation the other day is the way in and the way are really the same.
This video is invaluable for all of us, especially those of us who write.
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~Ed: Bryonie Wise
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July’s Full Moon in Capricorn: The Heart wants what it Wants. The 4 Stages of a Good Divorce. How to Love a Woman who Scares You. Our Soulmates are Rarely Who We Expect. Men, Let’s Stop Fooling Ourselves: Size Matters. A Letter to my Children: You do not come from a Broken Home. To the One Who Tried to Break Me. An Open Letter to the Fixers. How your Stored Memories in the Amygdala can lead to PTSD. How My Sister’s Death Transformed my Self-Perception.